Love In Absentia
by RedSmileyFace
Summary: Most of Bulma and Vegeta's relationship seems to be made up of fleeting moments between vast amounts of time spent apart. Bulma, the child genius, never left home. Vegeta, the tortured boy, joins the Space Marines and never wants to come back. Only a son between them bridges the gap; or is there love, too?
1. Orange Star High: Senior Year

Author's Notes: Kinda have a rough idea of where this is going, but also kinda unsure. There will be a few lemons, but also an unbelievable relationship set-up. This will probably be scoffed at, or seen as one in a million, or this-would-never-happen. But I wrote it for fun, and I hope some out there read it for fun too.

Also, there is mention of military life. I have rudimentary knowledge of military lifestyle, so forgive any and all mistakes! If there's any corrections or advice that can be given, I'll appreciate 'em!

* * *

 **Orange Star High: Senior Year**

"Is it true?" A young high school girl asked.

Slamming his locker closed, fellow high schooler turned to the affro'd blunette with a scowl on his face. "Is 'what' true?"

The girl bit her lip, looking down away from her crush's ever present glare. "Are you really leaving school in the middle of our senior year, Vegeta?"

"Yeah." Vegeta replied, before walking towards his next class. "I have to finish a few requirements per law, but then I'm gone."

He heard her scramble to keep up with him. "But, why? We only have about four more months to go before graduation. Why not finish..."

"Because!" Vegeta whirled on the younger girl, anger and impatience making themselves known, "I hate this shit town! I need to get out! NOW! No more waiting, no finishing this bullshit. Now! I'll finally be eighteen and able to do something about it. Do you understand, girl?"

"What about... what about my brother..."

"Fuck Goku." Vegeta spat at her pitiful reason to stay, continuing his walk to class. He and the young freshman might enjoy each other's company in the MMA club, but that was it, no more. That Goku is Bulma's adopted younger brother is a non-issue as far as Vegeta is concerned.

"I don't understand. My family cares for you, you have other options than joining the Space Marines right at this moment. What about an education? You _can_ finished with a diploma! Or staying with us? You can easily avoid your father. Or... or me? What about..."

"Us?" Vegeta interrupted, again looking at the babbling blunette, his face void of emotions now. "There is no 'us', Bulma." he said, stunning Bulma into silence. After a few seconds, he turned from her rigid form to open the door to their next class, not bothering to hold it open for the girl who had thought there was something between them.

* * *

"I have to tell you something." Bulma interrupted Vegeta's packing, a few days later. She stood just inside his childhood room, appropriately dressed for winter in jeans, knee high black boots, and a dark blue hoodie. His hoodie, not that it mattered. Rolling his eyes at his father's carelessness in letting her in, that she refused to leave him alone, he figured to get things over with and sat on his bed with arms crossed. "What?" He asked brusquely.

"Remember the night that... that you drove me home from my internship?" He nodded. How could he forget that night? There had been tension between them ever since she started tutoring him, and that night, as fate wove them together with forgetful boyfriends and busy parents, the tension broke. They been each other's first and she was the one thing that had brought any source of joy in this god forsaken town.

"Well," She broke him from his musings, sitting besides him but not touching. "We forgot protection... and..."

Silently, Vegeta connected the dots. He wondered if he was broken more than he thought, to feel almost nothing about the fact that he had sired a baby. That he would be a father. His feelings remained as always, anger at the world and determined to make something of himself. At least something better than his father, better than anyone expected.

"Well, here." Bulma presented him with a black and white photo. The ultrasound. "I'm pregnant." She said needlessly.

There followed a silence, thick and awkward for Bulma, contemplative for Vegeta. He knew what he would do, follow on as planned, but he ruminated for a few seconds the possibilities, and knew them to be frivolous and stupid. "This doesn't change anything, Bulma." He told her, handing the ultrasound back to her. "I have to do this." He finally relented and spoke to her as he had never done before. This girl hadn't change his life goals, but she had shown him that friendship and love could, and did, exist. Neither things he thought he wanted, but nevertheless, he found he owed her... something.

"You have done everything right, and had anything else been different, Bulma, I would stay. At least till graduation, maybe longer. But it came too little, too late. You know my abusive father, and all I'm good for is fighting and skipping. No one in this town, other than your family, gives me any acceptance, respect, or slack." He grabbed her hand. "Your father, thank him for me. Telling me about his days in the Air Force, it got me started on this path, and it IS better than staying here. No job, no college prospects, no friends. Nothing. Do you understand, Bulma? I need to make something of myself, before I can be anything to anyone. This baby, if you keep it, will be better off without me."

She had started to shed tears in the middle of his heartfelt explanation, and she wiped them away. "I think you're wrong. If you stayed, you could prove yourself a better man just being here, supporting us.

"For what it's worth, though, I understand. I won't try and stop you anymore." Not looking at him anymore, she got up from the bed and started walking away. "I almost didn't tell you, I was so angry. But I'm glad I did. You're usually so alone, but... You'll always have someone to come home to, I'm keeping the baby. Don't forget about us." And she walked out of his room.

As he resumed packing, he found that she had left the ultrasound behind. Staring at it for a while, he eventually pocketed it.


	2. Pick Up

**Author's Notes:** Yay! Follows/Faves/and positive reviews! Thank you!

My plan right now is most of the story to be told linearly; so far this chapter is the only one told out of sequence. This takes place a few months before chapter one.

 **WARNING: SMUT AHEAD!** (I will mark when it starts and ends, but there isn't a whole lot outside of that...) Along that vein, it has been a while since I've written lemons, and none quite so... long or attempting at details. So. Hope it is enjoyed?

* * *

 **Pick up**

"Thanks for picking me up." Bulma said, climbing into his beat up pick-up truck.

Vegeta merely grunted in reply, pulling away as soon as she had settled in her seat. Capsule Corps Labs disappeared behind, as the trees loomed before them, shielding the science building from the outside world.

They hadn't gone far before Bulma broke the silence. "Again, I'm sorry about this. My parents are at a charity ball, and Yamcha was supposed to..."

"You deserve better." Vegeta interrupted. "Don't settle for that guy; he's undependable, full of himself, and will flirt with anything with a skirt. And don't worry about me picking you up. Just call us even for all the tutoring you've done."

He looked to the side briefly, noting her staring back, blushing. It was a good look on her. Swallowing, he looked back to the road.

"Still," she replied, moving to sit in the middle seat, looking for warmth right next to him. The heater was broke, that was the only excuse he allowed her to remain by his side. "I'm a genius, two years ahead AND part of a paid internship. Girl should know how to drive, right?" He had to chuckle along with her.

"Genius, and doesn't know how to wait for a better catch." He teased her.

Sighing instead of laughing, she agreed, catching him off guard. "I might have to break things off with him." Her gloved hand patted his knee; doing things to him that Bulma was unaware of. "What would I do without my protector?" she laughed. He swallowed. Both were seniors, yet that was all they had in common. The fact that a nearly sixteen-year-old genius was tutoring a nearly eighteen-year-old delinquent said lots. There was no future for them together. What could he offer her besides trouble and grief?

He took her hand from his knee and held it, if only to stop her unintentional temptations, briefly glancing at her before paying attention to the road. He allowed his mind to remember all the stolen glances while at her house, her father reading a science magazine in the background, mother and brother cooking (and eating) in the kitchen. Their soft murmurs of information, questions, and answers creating an atmosphere of contentment, especially when they leaned nearer to each other, her hot breath upon his cheek. He didn't know what the attraction was; such a smart girl should have avoided the mean asshole (no matter how good looking) since she knew where she was going with her life, and he would never have looked at a bookworm twice. And yet, she was inclusive, not snotty (if a bit vain, at times). And perhaps Vegeta liked that a girl looked at him like he was more than just a walking sex thing or a meathead, or a constantly bruised boy who was going nowhere fast.

Tutoring had never been so strange, or rewarding. He shouldn't have bothered, especially since he didn't plan to graduate; yet when she kindly offered near the beginning of their junior year, he didn't refuse. That led to meeting her adopted brother, and her retired Air Force father. Three people Vegeta never thought he'd find in his corner (four counting their nice mother who cooked delicious meals).

He stole a glance at her in his truck once more, seeing her glance from the side towards him, wetting her lips. Another mile or two, he was stroking her hand with his thumb, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. At a stop sign, at a crossroads of two country roads surrounded by silent trees, he turned to her, finding her locking eyes with his. Impulsively, he pecked her lips, finding them soft and warm. He wondered briefly if his chapped lips turned her off. If her dumb smile was any indication, she wasn't.

Resuming the drive, he briefly wondered if that was her first kiss, or if Yamcha had beaten him to the punch. Vegeta found he didn't like that thought at all. Another glance revealed Bulma was still giggly over the kiss, her free hand touching her wet lips. Seeing the road stretch off to the distance, empty yet full of autumn leaves, he wondered how much longer he could go without telling her his plans to leave town and join the Space Marines. At the next stop sign, he turned to her again, not wanting her to get the wrong idea.

Their eyes met again. "Bulma..." He whispered. And she leaned up and kissed him. Full on, begging for entrance, biting and licking. He couldn't refuse, and he took over. His hand on the wheel turned white with tension, the desire to crush her to him; he dominated her with his mouth, biting her lips and wrestling her tongue.

When they finally parted, breathing deeply, Vegeta had all but forgotten anything but the girl sitting before him. Turning away from her, he hastily maneuvered the truck to the side of the dark and barely traveled road, setting it in park and shutting it off. Gripping the wheel he tried to steady his excitement. He took a deep and slow breath. "Tell me to stop..."

 **SMUT SMUT SMUT**

But her coat thrown into his face interrupted him. He hadn't even registered that Bulma had stripped, but as he inhaled the fresh scent of his younger classmate, rational thought evaded him. Yanking the pea coat off his face, he teasingly growled at the bluenette, earning him an unabashed smile from her as she then tossed her gloves and tee shirt into the small back seat. Bulma is a flirt by nature, her being a tease belying the fact that she is also seriously smart. None of her flirting had ever gone past suggestive phrases or winks, though. Any thoughts Vegeta might have about new actions disappeared as his eyes followed her hand that traced down her neck, between her ample breasts, flat stomach, and finally meeting her other hand to unbutton her jeans.

Wanting to participate, Vegeta grabbed at her waist and yanked just so, so that Bulma fell on her back upon the passenger and middle seats, her jeans half way off. She giggled as he fumbled her pants the rest of the way off. Smirking at her, Vegeta maneuvered so that he hovered above her, silencing her giggles with a heated kiss. She arched into him, moaning as he explored her flesh, not even bothering to take off her bra as he learned of her generous breasts and massaging them.

Bulma also learned of Vegeta, digging hands underneath layers of tee shirt and hoodie, tracing ripped abs and smooth pecs. Grunting with pleasure, the boy kissed her neck, hands sliding down curvy sides and around to her fleshy rear, squeezing as her nails ran down his back. Who needed the truck's heater to work? They had managed to fog up the windows, their moans and grunts of pleasure all the speech they had.

They embraced passionately, her legs now around his lean waist while he dry humped her. He would have been content with this, as he had never had better. Neither had she, and though she didn't know why she needed _Vegeta_ rather than her own boyfriend, she wasn't going to question her body, which had loooong admired her upper classmate's harsh features (who knew? She liked the bad boys...). If she wasn't befuddled by lust, she might describe him as dependable, loyal, respectful to her parents, and so kind to pick up her from her internship when he should have been home by curfew, set by an abusive father. She had created problems for him by asking his help tonight, she felt guilty yet happy he obliged _her._ Her emotions for Vegeta hit a high, and were fueled by instinct and hormones.

"Vegetaaa..." she moaned into his ear, earning a sharper thrust of jean clad dick against her soaked panties, "I need more. I need you!" He stilled, she was sure he was unsure he heard her correctly. When he she attempted to take off his shirt and hoodie, humping him back to get him started again, for half a second she was afraid she had gone too far, had come off too needy or too easy... Yet all he did was rise to his knees and in one fluid action take off what she had started to remove, showcasing by moonlight his glorious, lean torso.

He gave her a smoldering stare, her breath hitched. "Are you sure?" He asked, and would stop, both could tell. Licking her lips, watching his hands unbuckle and unzip his pants, she nodded. She was rewarded as he shoved his pants down to his knees and revealed his hardness to her. It was thick and long and dangerous, and her heart rate, already high, sped up once again.

"Take off your bra." He demanded, while his hands spread her thighs wider. She arched her back to give in to his request, arms twisting around to reach the clasp. She whimpered when his fingers traced her pussy through her panties, finding her wetness. Her bra flew over the headrest, her arms falling above her head, finding his gaze now upon her breasts. The hand not at her core gripped at one, gently squeezing and massaging. Her moans were his reward.

He leaned down, kissing her as he tugged her panties aside, sliding his cock against her pelvis. Neither was able to wait any longer, each angling their sexes. Vegeta then slid in her, one swift stroke. Their kiss broke with her pained gasp and his pleasured groan. He looked at her, seeing her wincing face, and looking down as he slid out, he saw evidence of her shattered virginity.

He leaned up to kiss her again, thrusting in again, though slowly this time. There was no gasp of pain, yet he could feel her tensing. He tried to distract the both of them (her pain, his blinding lust) by caressing her again, a hand on her breast, his other hand tracing her waist, hip, and finally landing on her ass, kneading it. When he thrust again, helplessly, he was rewarded with a soft moan.

He did the same slow entry, relishing the new sensations of heat and tightness, groaning in pleasure. Her fingernails ran down his back adding to the sensations. "More!" She moaned into his ear. He rose up, hands propping him up around her head. Looking down, he watched his cock come out of her pussy, and then enter. Her hands had fallen from around his back to grasp his hips, nails digging in. He thrust in harsher, eliciting a sharp "Ah!" from her lips. He did it again, and again, and watched her breasts bounce with each thrust.

She threw her head back exclaiming with each hit to her core in ecstasy. He filled her completely; she didn't know sex could be anything quite like this! The pleasure kept rising and rising, with each thrust he gave, harder and harder, harsher and faster. "Vegeta!" She wailed, the end near, right there…

Yelling out, her peak hit and everything tightened: her insides against his member, her nails on his hips. The boy above her groaned, deep and long, forcing one and two more jerks against her. She caught the tail end of his orgasm, eyes closed and mouth open in wonder. It was a new look on him, and more than her own joy, she relished his release of anger and tension, if just for a moment.

 **END OF SMUT**

She reached for his face, and it seemed the catalyst for him to just fall on top of her.

They remained like that for a few minutes, basking in the afterglow, stunned at the new sensations felt. Hands wandered some more, gently and comforting. Eventually though Bulma began to shiver.

Vegeta raised his head to look at her. "Not heated enough for you?"

The flushed girl beneath him shrugged a shoulder. "It is a cold autumn night, after all. And the sweat we worked up doesn't help out right now…"

"Hm." He commented, smirking even as he got off her, yanking his jeans up from his knees and zipping. He dug out some handy leftover napkins from WacDonald's out of the glove compartment and gave them to his tutor turned lover.

Slowly, they each cleaned up as best as possible and re-dressed. The rest of the trip to the Briefs' home was quiet yet content. Vegeta didn't think twice having Bulma nestled against his side, and didn't even remember to tell her his plans for the future.


	3. Space Marines

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks again for reviews and stuff. Much appreciated! Hope this next installment is enjoyed, though it might not be as exciting...**

* * *

"Mail call! Vegeta!"

Not allowing his surprise to show, said man raised his hand, and a package was tossed to him. Taking it to his bunk for a semblance of privacy, he opened it. The first thing he saw were Capsule Cakes, tiny preserved cupcakes packaged for mass consumerism yet only sold in his hometown state. It was also a subdivision of Capsule Corps, a gift to the inventor's wife. As a frequent visitor and guest of the Briefs, Vegeta had always left their home with a package or two of sugary goodness.

And indeed, when he read the letter addressed to him, he found it signed by Mr. Trunks Briefs. It admonished him for not stopping by their home to say his farewells. Not three months away from home, and Col (ret.) Briefs had used his connections to find Private Vegeta. Vegeta smirked at the reproach, only hearing the befuddled old man's teasing rather than a firm rebuke.

The letter also spoke of the high school graduation, Bulma's acceptance into college with a full scholarship, and her managing well with her pregnancy, her father was proud to boast. Goku had joined a Jiu-Jitsu club, and Mrs. Briefs was trying new recipes to market. All said their hellos, and included was an updated ultrasound. Bulma was now seven months pregnant. With a boy.

Now the blue tissue paper packaging made more sense. After eating the cupcakes, he threw everything out (minus the ultrasound, which he pocketed along with the first one). He emailed the Briefs to thank them for the package, but didn't enquirer after anyone, or give news of himself.

* * *

The military would have granted Vegeta a pass to go home to see the birth of his child. It was not like he was in a war zone, or so very far away (he could be home in ten hours). He could have held Bulma's hand while she screamed, held his son mere moments after his birth, could have had a say on the name. And yet, he requested nothing, and only through social media did Vegeta know what his son looked like, was named, and how Bulma fared.

Mirai looked like his father, yet had his mother's blue eyes and hair. He seemed a cheerful baby, and already Vegeta knew the kid would never know the same hardships as his father. For that, Vegeta was thankful, and "liked" the one photo featuring only Mirai on CapBook. Vegeta had never "liked" anything before. He received a printed copy in the snail mail a week or so later, Bulma's lipstick kiss on the back. It joined the ultrasound photo in his pocket.

* * *

Boot camp was over, it was time to go to space. Again, the military would have given him leave to go home for a few weeks. Would have expected it, even. But Vegeta only stayed on base, patiently waiting for the ship to take him to his first assignment. Communication would be harder to achieve once he left earth's atmosphere, and he found he was looking forward to shedding all ties. He already felt like he was a new man; now it was time to lead a new life, one he could be proud of, and nothing holding him back.

When he had found out about Bulma's pregnancy, he had wondered at his apathy towards the news. Again, he wondered why he felt little attachment, except for three already wrinkly photos kept close at all times. The glossy papers could not help him with his goals, but he was finding out that he could never quite quit holding onto them. Perhaps it was enough that he remembered them, even if he couldn't give anything to them. Bulma, Mirai; he didn't do this for them, but they reminded him of what there was worth fighting for. An idea of family life. Perhaps, one day, he'd be worthy enough.

Before he left earth, he shipped a Space Marine Teddy Bear to the Brief's home; no explanation, no words of affection. Still, its appearance on CapBook (a photo of a sleeping Mirai hugging the bear closely) assured him that Bulma accepted his stunted emotion, and didn't hold anything against him. Or, at least, not where his son was concerned.

* * *

Joining the Space Marines had been the right decision. Vegeta thrived in the uncomplicated system. You either did your job, or didn't. Routine was a must, as were rules and regulation. If he made mistakes, there were punishments, but no punches to the gut, no broken bones, no physical torture delivered by a drunken and vengeful father; only someone who looked out for him with harsh, yet true, words and a lesson learned for next time.

If he did something right, or above and beyond, there were praises and awards, expectations for continued success, words of congratulations and advice; no more apathetic authority figure, the sneers and slaps, questioning whether Vegeta thought he was better than others.

He had earned the respect of his superiors, peers, and, after he had risen in the ranks, those under his command. All anyone knew of Corporal Vegeta was his dependability, no-nonsense, strength, and intelligence, and that was all they needed. No one questioned his past, family, or schooling, as no one wanted to be questioned themselves.

Assignments in the Space Marine program were roughly three years each, and not usually made by men with family, or who had good thing going on back on Earth. Most of Vegeta's fellow marines were lonely people, bastards or bitches with nothing better to do, or even young kids with the choice between jail and military. But once boot camp was over and the uniform was donned, only service mattered. Service before self.

If there was one thing Vegeta regretted, it was the timing of his and Bulma's relationship, of Mirai's birth. However, they were never far from his mind, and everything he did, to his surprise, was to make them proud of him. Not that they would ever know of his deeds, but still, he knew of them. He would not go home until he could prove he could stand on his own successes, and not by her or her family's charity. It surprised him how little of his reasons for service were self-centered; yes, he was there to better himself, _but_ it was for others, in the end.

Communication in space was difficult, but not for renowned scientist such as Col (retired) Briefs. Every few months he would receive a space-wave. Bulma graduated college in only two years, at the age of 18. She was now a grad student working at some random university away from under her father's wings. Vegeta smirked, knowing exactly how she felt, needing to prove herself, not ride on her father's coattails. It is exactly what he is doing: refusing his father's dour shadow, or riding on the Brief's generosity.

Goku had by now graduated high school too, and was joining the Space Marines as well. Vegeta tried not to feel anything at that.

Mirai never slept without his teddy, the bear his absent father had left him. The latest photo he received showed Mirai eating his third birthday cake, grinning like a fool at the camera. Vegeta grinned like a fool too, and placed the pic with all the rest.

He never sent any word to the Briefs, yet every now and then Dr. Briefs (it was always the old man who did the writing) would congratulate Vegeta on some achievement, award, or promotion, that Vegeta knew the retired Air Force Colonel was making use of his contacts. Wily old man! No doubt Bulma would learn too, and though he had originally wanted a clean break, Vegeta could not find it within himself to be too angry.

* * *

Friends were not wanted, or needed, and yet Vegeta found himself with a few. Unwillingly, he might add. But smelly marines sharing quarters, combat and dangers tended to make bonds, even of the most cold-hearted bastards. After serving in the Space Marines a total of nine years, along with a few others who chose space rather than the confines of Earth, some acquaintances were made, and even survived after reassignments or retirements.

Gunnery Sergeant Nappa was one of Vegeta's first mentors; rough bark, rougher bite. Yet there was a gleam in his eyes that proved, mission after mission, that humanity could prevail time after time, and no amount of horror could erase the Gunny's laugh or sense of honor. He was the only other man in space who knew that Vegeta was a father, had seen the photos and shared his own of his little girl, named "Mai", who looked nothing like her father, thank goodness.

Radditz, who shared Vegeta's rank of Sergeant, was one of those men who shared everything, like how he was one of those boys who chose service rather than jail time, and who had eventually come to appreciate how his life came out to be. He was a bloodthirsty fellow with an eye for the fairer sex, and yet when put to a task, he was first to finish, and without cutting corners. He may have liked his looks a little much, but when all was said in done, it was good to have him at your back.

And, yes, Goku became their friend as well. The little brother thought of as nothing more than a punching bag rose to be their superior, if in rank only. Bulma's brother was their Lieutenant, at the moment, in his third year of service. He had an uphill battle gaining their friendship, as his bubbly personality clashed with their dour attitudes. The fact that he had an officer's room (roomier and he didn't have to share) and a hoity-toity college degree from the Naval Academy didn't help his image, either.

(Bulma had also graduated: with honors and had already made her first invention [the miniaturization tool]. She now held a reputation all her own so had rejoined her father's company and was set to take over when the old man retired from the lab as well.)

Young Goku thrived under the harsh reception; the little officer listened to his Gunny's advice, never belittled his men, just asked for plenty of friendly spars (of which there was no shortage of volunteers to bust the Lieutenant's ass). He never waved his good fortune in their faces nor flaunt his fancy ass degree, or expect obedience for the mere sake of it. No, he had earned the right to lead them, strange as it seemed. Goku had never been a smart boy, or man as he'd become, yet even Vegeta had come to see that Goku had an uncanny gift at battle strategy; apparently the dunce had inherited _some_ form of brilliance by osmosis from his ex-military, genius-scientist father.

Vegeta took longest to win over; he originally wanted nothing to do with Bulma's little brother. Especially when the brat had the decency to marry the woman he had knocked up, and regularly wrote to her via his father's connections. It was a comparison that was not appreciated. After a few years of this, though, when Goku hardly ever mentioned their shared history, Vegeta became less tense and wary, going so far as asking the boy for information on the Briefs.

After Vegeta's tenth year of service, Goku came with further news seemingly out of the blue, as relayed by Dr. Briefs: Vegeta Sr. had died.

This time, when the Space Marines offered him leave to settle family affairs, Vegeta went home.


	4. Father

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the late posting. I never liked this chapter, and it took a while to reconcile myself with it. I like it more than I did a while ago...

Thanks for the reviews! I try to reply to all who have an account. As for anonymous reviews, thanks for the positive notes!

I got two from "elsi", and both reviews talked about Vegeta being a douchebag and not liking him, but liking my story, and this makes me happy! I liked reading your irked reviews on behalf of Bulma.

Another guest also hates Vegeta's actions, but feels for him, and I also adore this. Thanks!

I wanted to write a story where Vegeta is still the good guy, but borderline asshole-ish. It's a fine line that I like to write, on occasion. I'm glad a few guests got angry at Vegeta, but still like what I've written. It's a weird good, I love it. I hope this chapter doesn't not disappoint, and partially soothes over the anger...

Another guest asked about Mirai; specifically why he was named such? Will there be another "Trunks"? I am undecided. ;p Depending on how the story goes, it either makes it easier to differentiate Mirai from his grandfather, Trunks, OR it could open a door for both boys to make an appearance in this AU. B/c I love both Miria Trunks and chibi Trunks. They're the same, but not, and I LOVED when Dragon Ball Super explored that :D So final answer: I don't know?

* * *

Vegeta couldn't keep his return a secret even if he were try, which he didn't. Retired Colonel Briefs met him when he made planet fall, as no doubt Goku made sure to relay when he'd be home. The old man was alone, and as if he could read Vegeta's mind, spoke first; "Bulma sends her regards, though she didn't want to overwhelm you. She hopes to meet you sometime before you leave?" It was a question, and Vegeta knew right away that everything was in his court. He was surprised she would give him that space and consideration; but perhaps he should have guessed considering the only thing she bugged him with over ten years were printed photos in the snail mail of Mirai. And he definitely didn't mind those...

He was rarely alone in the coming days; old man Briefs stayed with him at the funeral home, the lawyer's office, his father's home, only ever leaving when it was nighttime. "Thank you," Vegeta said, the night before the funeral would take place. "You must be missing work, or your family, to take time to help me. I... appreciate it. More than I can express."

"Vegeta..." Briefs sighed, stepping close and clapping a gnarled hand on Vegeta's shoulder, "Of course I would help you out. It was easy to forgive your absence when I realized it was something you felt you _needed_ to do, and I've come to respect you decision and your accomplishments. I've followed your career and I couldn't be prouder of your achievements and of rising above your past. Beyond that, you've been in our lives since Bulma brought you home your junior year of high school, and later when baby Mirai came home from the hospital, and I've felt such joy from her, because of you. You _are_ family, son; I wouldn't leave you to this alone."

Gaping in wonder, it was all Vegeta could do to remain standing. "But, how could you?" He asked. "I… I abandoned her, them, and never kept in contact."

"You are not a verbal, or emotive, man, my boy. Were I to expect you to act like me, or Goku, I would be sorely disappointed. I knew it form the start; when I first met you, I thought to myself: 'there is a boy who will hardly ever say more than five words to me.' And I have been correct.

"And where Bulma and Mirai are concerned, I didn't think you would make a good father at the time." He lightly chuckled at Vegeta's scowl, "You deny it?" When Vegeta said nothing, Trunks continued. "I did not say that to shame or hurt you, but acknowledge a truth. If wishes were truths, life wouldn't be a burden, and either you two would never have begotten Mirai, or you would have stayed behind to help nurture a perfect loving family. Let's not go over mistakes or could-have-beens and unrealistic fantasies, but realize some good things:

"You were a good boy, and are a good man. Bulma and Mirai did not, and do not, _need_ you, per se, to live and thrive. Frankly, you were lucky to knock up a girl who could be a single mother without you around; otherwise, as her father, I might have had to kill you. Or curtail your career, at least." He smirked at that, a look so much like a mischievous Bulma, Vegeta realized where her wicked streak came from. But saved that tidbit for later. Trunks finished his monologue: "Though you feel you abandoned them, I know you only abandoned a bad situation." He looked around the rack shamble house of his father; "and our family would never abandon you for that." He again looked at Vegeta, willing the man before him to understand what the boy could never have.

Then Trunks moved to leave, patting Vegeta's shoulder in farewell, and the soft click of the door signaling his departure.

That night was supposed to be a vigil of sorts, to remember his father; but none of his thoughts were very charitable. His childhood home was bare: no photos, newspaper clippings, or any sign at all that a boy had once lived here. Even the things Vegeta had left behind had disappeared, only a twin bed surviving the years. The man, no, abuser, had done nothing for his son except sire him.

The Briefs had welcomed him, remembered him, kept photos and news articles of him. Regularly, through snail mail, he received their gifts of portraits, cakes, and other frivolous things (Goku, before he joined the Space Marines himself, once sent a pack of baseball cards. Though they came in handy trading with his men for other treats, Vegeta had to wonder what about him Goku though would like baseball cards?) They were a family of sorts, more than he had ever had before Bulma offered to tutor. And though he hadn't known how to accept that as a teen, he was coming to the realization that as an adult, things could, and should, change. That night, he came to the conclusion to bridge the lack of communications with Bulma, and his son. Tomorrow, at the funeral, she would be there; he'd ask to meet for a coffee or a lunch, promise to write more emails or something...

Feeling nothing about Vegeta Sr.'s death, except perhaps surprise he finally kicked the bucket, Vegeta wondered if he should feel more remorse rather than nervous anticipation for meeting his high school lover again? But to know the old bastard would never have him running away in fear again, made coming home easier, bearable, and he sighed knowing that he had been a coward; to let his father's mere presence in his hometown prevent him from keeping ties, from visiting. Well... life, or the lack of it, opened up a chance for change, and Vegeta would take it.


	5. Let's Meet for Lunch

Sorry for the long wait! I have poor excuses, and only warnings that there'll probably be more long periods between future chapters... Apologies! Anyway, I hope this chapter is enjoyed, nonetheless.

* * *

 **Let's Meet for Lunch**

Bulma fidgeted in her seat. She alternated between fixing her hair (now straight, unlike her high school afro), rearranging the diner's silverware, or checking her cell phone.

It had been ten years since she had seen Vegeta, or even talked to him; their only communication was through her father, or random "likes" on CapBook. There is no reason for her to carry a torch for the man. He left her pregnant and alone, they had never had anything in common, and their time together amounted to two years in high school: her showing up after skipping many grades to land in junior year at age 14. Then followed brief interactions, supervised tutoring sessions, and then lost virginity at the age of 15. Finally, he was gone before the end of the school year when he turned 18, three months away from her Sweet 16.

He was quiet, aloof, and dangerous. Where other teenage boys were only interested in her looks and seeming vulnerability, (HA! She showed them!) Vegeta could care less. He only ever seemed to respond to her intelligence and her invitations to free food.

Small foundation to build lasting romance over, even after making love only once. She should never have thought of him again, even after having his child. Bulma was lucky to have had her family's support, and her brains. She was able to complete high school, college, a paid internship, start as a permanent employee at Capsule Corps with plans to take over, ALL before the age of 22, AND as a single mother. Now she is 26, with four years of success becoming a world-renowned scientist in her own right with a few patents under her belt, and a few more inventions bubbling in her brain. Vegeta had done nothing for her, not even give emotion support across the distance of time and space. He had fucked her over, literally and figuratively.

However...

Vegeta had grown up in an abusive home, under an authoritative figure. He had never thought of family, affection, friendship, or even love; how would he know how to deal with it? That he managed to find a friend and a lover, no matter how much ignored, was a miracle; even if he obviously thought he was not the man for the job. He wanted, no _needed,_ to prove himself, better than anyone in their hometown ever expected of him. He felt he could not have thrived under the oppressive presence of everything he abhorred. Mostly Vegeta Sr., and Bulma half believes it was his father's existence that kept the son away for so long, and so absolutely, with nary a letter or visit.

All these thoughts, both the negative and understanding, were not new thoughts, but their intensity was stronger than before. Perhaps she had not thought she would ever see Vegeta again, or so abruptly. Neither had she ever considered what she would do if he came back. So now he's here again, and she's terrifically flustered.

She chugged some water, checking the time again and seeing a text from ChiChi saying Gohan and Mirai were getting along fine, and for Bulma not to worry. Worry? About Mirai? Ha! The sweetest boy there ever was; how had he come from Vegeta? Texting back a form of "thanks", Bulma remembered seeing Vegeta from a small distance at his father's funeral, and how he had stayed by his mother's tombstone and seemed not to care about what was going on around him.

He had never known his mother, he once explained to Bulma. She had always wondered, and she was sure Vegeta did too, though he never shared his thoughts on it, that had Mrs. Ouji had lived past childbirth, could Vegeta have been happier and more carefree? With Mirai as plausible evidence, it could have been true. She stared at Mirai's cheery face on her phone, fondly thinking on how great it would've been for Mrs. Ouji to meet her grandson. Vegeta Sr. never had.

"Still oblivious to the world, I see." remarked a gruff voice above her.

Startled, Bulma stood up straight from the booth like an eager intern; even going so far as to smooth down her purple blouse as she faced the person she had been waiting for. "Vegeta!" She exclaimed, and then cleared her throat. "You made it." She said, a little calmer.

He rolled his eyes, but in not in an annoyed way. He looked good, Bulma thought; fleshed out, taller, wearing denim and a red tee shirt (with the Space Marines' emblem on the left breast) _really_ well. "I said I would. Been waiting long?"

Lightly chuckling, she replied, "Only about ten years. But today? Only a few minutes." _'That seemed like an eternity!'_

"Hm." He commented. "Well, let's order, I'm starving." So saying he sat down. She followed and stared at him while he perused the menu. She noticed stress lines, but nothing that took away from his handsomeness. His scowl; either she remembered worse, or he didn't seem as angry as he always had been.

After they had ordered food, they settled into semi-awkward silence. She noticed him checking her up and down; she refused to pat down her hair again, or her purple blouse, or palm her skinny jeans in apprehension. "You look good." He remarked. "The hair is different, but doesn't look like you really changed much."

Blushing (' _get a hold of yourself girl!'_ ), she replied that he looked good too. Another brief silent spell. She checked her phone for something to do. Then, "Do you want to see some photos of Mirai?"

He acquiesced, and they spent the time before their food arrived looking over all the pics on Bulma's Strawberry Phone. "He looks happy." Vegeta mentioned while chowing down his burger. "Does he... ever ask about me?"

Poking at her BBQ ribs, Bulma didn't reply at first. "Not recently, but when he was about five or six, all he wanted was information about you." She looked at Vegeta. "He still has that teddy bear you sent when he was a baby; he wonders why you never sent anything else."

Vegeta looked down at his plate. "I'm not sorry for leaving, for doing what I needed to do. But, I am... sorry... that I never... "

Her manicured hand (purple nail polish) gripped his hand. "It's OK. I understand. You never were one for talk, or keeping in touch. I practically forced you to become my friend." She grinned.

He didn't allow her to lighten the mood. "I wouldn't have let you, if I really didn't want your friendship." He turned his hand so he could hold hers. "You don't have to pretend things are OK for my sake. Or for yours. I did a lot of thinking this past week, of how much your family means to me. I was a stupid, angry teenager, and though I probably still would have done as I did knowing what I know now, still I should have tried harder to keep in contact, or something. Not let my avoidance of my father lead to avoidance of you.

"Besides, I thought you would never want to see me again after the way I treated you, so I left you alone. Your father made it seem you were fine. OK. Prospering, even. You didn't need me."

She sighed. "Need and want are two different things, Vegeta. I wanted you, so very much."

"It is still unbelievable to me. Was there no one else?"

She took back her hand, picking up a rib, shielding herself from embarrassment. "Not since you." She took a bite of meat, and spoke with a mouth full. Hardly the heiress turned scientist at the moment. "I've been so busy being a single mom, a grad-student, then intern, then scientist and inventor; I just..." She shrugged her shoulders, "Didn't care to commit to anything else. Sometimes couldn't, with the workload. Even with my parents' help, it was difficult." She chugged a bit of water. "What about you? Find anybody out there?"

She didn't look at him as she asked this, this time stabbing at her coleslaw with her fork. Vegeta smirked at her antics. "No one long term." Is what he settled for, and chose not to elaborate. She looked towards him again, curiosity evident in her eyes. Her mouth opened to ask for details, no doubt, when he forestalled her. "Your father told me about how you've made inventions and improvements in the scientific fields; tell me about them?"

Mouth closed in a snap, she knew he wouldn't elaborate on his past lovers, and perhaps that was for the best. For now. The emotions were too strained without adding ex drama to the mix. She sighed, for what seemed the millionth time that day, yet nodded in acquiescence, allowing the heavy atmosphere to ease up, take a break from the tension. The rest of the meal was spent telling Vegeta about her contributions to modern science and technologies, of which he was engaged in. Even threw an appropriate question now and then. It made her inner doctorate preen to have an appreciative audience. When the check came, he jokingly said with what she made, she should buy his meal, but had refused her the very idea at the same time, taking his wallet out and putting down two twenties for the meal plus tip.

It was then that Bulma caught a glimpse of a photo in the wallet; it was the most recent photo of Mirai, taken this last fall for his fourth grade portrait. Her dad must have sent it, and she smiled to know Vegeta kept such things. She linked arms with him as they left the diner, and he made no objection. "Where to next?" For they had agreed it would take more than a single meal to reconcile things.

He suggested his hotel (he wasn't even staying at his childhood home anymore), and she agreed. They walked in companionable silence, each in their own way relishing contact with the other. Bulma hoped for more such instances in the future, while Vegeta was still in awe this was at all possible.

Instead of going up to his room, he suggested the lobby; Bulma agreed, taking a seat furthest from eavesdroppers and leaving room for Vegeta to sit next to her. She shifted so her leg touched his, and wrapped her arms around one of his. He seemed tense and unsure of their proximity, but didn't make a move to disengage. She smiled up at him reassuringly. "So," she started, as cheerfully as possible, "how long will you be staying in town?"

"I have two more weeks. And I know what I want to do with the time. If it is possible and OK with you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I, uh..." He reached to scratch behind his head, not knowing how people went about doing this type of thing. "I want to meet Mirai..."

In the silence that followed, Vegeta wondered if he said something wrong, or if he was a bastard to suggest meeting a boy he had no claim over. Bulma only squeezed his arm a little harder.

When he did work up the courage to look at her face again, he saw a gentle smile, an encouraging smile. "I'd like nothing better." She assured him.

"Of course," Vegeta clarified, "I want to see him every day, but I know that's unrealistic. You'll set any guidelines you feel necessary, and I'll follow. I want him, you, both, to understand that I plan to make more use of social media to keep in regular contact. I also will plan more trips back to earth…. I don't know how long I'll be in the service for, but…"

"Vegeta!" Bulma cut in, lightly laughing at his rambling. "It's OK. I understand we can't solve everything right now, but I am very happy you'll keep in touch this time.

"As for Mirai, I'd say it's really up to him." Vegeta nodded at that, and Bulma continued. "Let's start small. How about you come over tomorrow for lunch. You guys can bond over food, and if all goes well, you stay for dinner, and if not, we can go from there?"

Vegeta only nodded, unsure of what really to say. When he thought over what she said, he huffed: "What do you mean, 'bond over food'?"

Bulma laughed aloud this time. "He eats like a monster, every time! I've only ever seen you and my brother, Goku, do the same! It's uncanny."

Shaking his head at her, but smiling all the same, he asked for more quirks of his son. "Well…" Bulma ruminated, a finger to her chin, "Why don't you find out for yourself tomorrow? This will give you something to chat about, rather than me giving you everything!"

"Hmm." Was the lackluster response. "Then what should we do the rest of this time together for today? Sit here in silence?"

Bulma laughed. "There's the angry man I've missed!" She sighed as he halfheartedly glared at her. "Well, we've spent most of lunch talking about me, and looking at pics of Mirai." She released his arm and changed her seating position, tucking her legs underneath her on the sofa, an elbow on the backseat and her chin in palm. "Tell me about you, now. About the time in the Space Marines."

"It's classified." Was the gruff response.

"Ass!" She exclaimed, smacking his shoulder. Then they both dissolved into light laughter.

"None of it was fun, or easy." He started softly. "But, it was the people who made it both fun and easy." He looked at Bulma, to see she had followed. When she nodded, he continued. "Gunnery Sergeant Nappa Valley was the first to whip me into shape on the brutal sands of Mars…"

And as Vegeta had done for her during lunch, Bulma listened attentively and with curiosity, even asking appropriate questions, laughing at the appropriate times, giving sympathy at others. One manicured hand had drifted from the backseat to grip his shoulder supportively. In turn, unconsciously, a calloused yet warm hand landed on her jean-clad knees and caressed it. They were so comfortable with each other, but they had not realized it yet. Only later, at night when both ran over the events of the day, would they fret they had overstepped boundaries, and hope the other could forgive them. Neither would know there was nothing at fault.

Near 6 pm, Bulma received a text from ChiChi stating the boys were begging for pizza. Bulma was not very hungry, but it had been the time everyone had agreed was good for Bulma to part ways with Vegeta, and to meet up with ChiChi and the boys.

Walking Bulma to the hotel entrance, Vegeta felt awkward, scratching at his head. How did he say goodbye? Did she expect him to keep to himself? Hug her? Deciding to play it safe, he stuck his hand out to shake hers, mentioning that he'd be at her house the next day in time for lunch.

She only smiled at him in amusement. Shaking her head, she walked into his space, totally ignoring his outstretched hand, and hugged him. After two seconds or so, she felt his arms return the favor. After taking a deep breath of his scent, she sighed in contentment. Somehow, both managed to release at the same time, and with a final wave, they parted for the evening.


End file.
